


Peace and Quiet and Hurricanes

by Poochee



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Rush (2013)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Vacation, i honestly don't know what to tag, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poochee/pseuds/Poochee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> During the off-season, they do nothing but eat, drink, sleep, and fuck. In Spain. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace and Quiet and Hurricanes

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Easter everyone i hope you got a lot of chocolate!  
> i did and then i got my period  
> i got lucky.
> 
> enjoy this random thing my brain pooped out!

During the off-season, they do nothing but eat, drink, sleep, and fuck. In Spain.

James tries cooking, and for some reason, he isn’t half-bad at it. He’d stolen a cookbook from Suzy, some French thing that’s been translated into English, and is up late at night with his pastries or he’s up early to get them breakfast in bed. It’s surprisingly sweet.

Niki, on the other hand, takes care of the drinks. There are empty bottles of wine overflowing from underneath the kitchen sink, the coffee table, the balcony…James says he’s going to throw them out one day, but Niki doesn’t believe him. They usually binge clean when it gets to be too much to handle, and Niki estimates that the time will come sometime next week.

Along with the wine bottles are half-empty bottles of vodka, whiskey, scotch, and whatever else the Brit wanted to fill his liquor cabinet with. Of course, there are beers in the fridge, but they’re usually only touched by guests that swing by, unless they’re close with James.

The thing is, James likes to pack their things and take Niki to Spain during the winter months, maybe a week or two after the last race. Niki tries to keep them at home until the snow falls, but it’s no use, Spain is James’ second home and he loves it there. Niki doesn’t mind it too much, it’s a lot prettier than London, but definitely hotter. He spends most of his time outside in the shade, sitting and relaxing and  _still_  wiping the sweat from his brow now and then.

He likes to watch James on those hot days. While he sits in the shade with a friend, sipping some kind of drink, he’ll watch James swim or play tennis or have a ‘friendly’ match of whatever sport he and his opponent agree to play. James would sweat from the exercise and heat, and he’d steadily lose an article of clothing as the game went on. First, his shirt, when it would cling to the sweat collecting on his lower back, and he’d peel it from his toned torso, wiping his brow with it before tossing it aside. Niki would always shift in his seat, making sure to look calm and casual and try to remain focused on the topic of conversation,  _not_  on the hicky peeking out of James’ waistband.

The next to go would be his shorts, if he had anything on underneath, like those ridiculous money-print booty-shorts-slash-underwear-whatever-they-are. James had a nice bum in and out of them, he really did. Niki barely resisted the urge to slap or pinch it whenever the Brit walked by in them, but he grabbed and groped it as much as he liked while they fucked afterwards.

Sometimes, James would wear a ridiculous headband and his shorts, and nothing more. He’d look ridiculous, yet still sexy, and Niki really had to wonder how on earth he did it. He never told James, of course, because the man didn’t need another reason to be a cocky asshole, but Niki always just silently wondered. It was either the headband, or hair clips. James would take his fringe and pin it back, looking like the prettiest F1 driver in all the world. Niki liked to kiss his forehead when he did it, because it rarely showed, aside from windy days or when he brushed it aside while they laid together and ate one of James’ bakings.

After an afternoon of sweating, playing, and watching, they say goodbye to their friends and head back to the house. James would have his clothing bunched up in his arms and Niki would walk by his side, both chattering away and laughing and teasing until they arrived back at the house. James would dump his wrinkled clothing by the entrance and kiss Niki against the wall, slowly and deeply, tilting his chin up and enjoying how the Austrian would try to both push him away and pull him closer.

“You fucking stink,” would be Niki’s argument when he pushed James away, but he’d kiss the Brit again, anyway.

James liked to think that he was irresistible, even when covered in sweat.

He’d take Niki to the bedroom and find him already half-hard. It was flattering, and if he sucked just below Niki’s ear, he’d find out that the little rat was watching him play and became aroused. Also flattering.

When he had Niki where he wanted him, with slow kisses from fumbling lips, and well-placed touches from wandering hands, he’d kiss every wonderful inch of his lover. He’d lick and bite at his nipples, grinning at the soft chuckles and even softer moans, dip his tongue between Niki’s collarbones and taste the salty skin without shame.

“Stop that,” Niki would mutter breathlessly when James sucked on his inner thighs, the muscles jumping beneath his lips.

He’d lick the forming little bruise and smile, muttering back, “Why?”

“You are being a tease.”

James would bite his lip to keep from laughing. “Ah,” he’d mutter, “Sorry, love.” But he wasn’t sorry at all.

He’d take Niki into his mouth, sucking  _right_  there, licking and slurping until he tasted something salty on his tongue again.

Later, dry and mostly-clothed after a shared shower, James would take Niki into the kitchen and cook dinner. Niki would watch from the counter, admiring James’ profile while the Brit chopped vegetables or browned the meat, sometimes stealing bits of tomato from the little piles. He’d grin and laugh whenever James caught him and attempted to reprimand him, scolding him with his own grin. It was all sickeningly domestic, but it was nice. They went so fast on the track that they began to appreciate the slow days in life.

They’d have a glass of wine and cuddle on the couch after dinner, their bellies full and hungers sated. Sometimes Niki would rub James’ stomach when the Brit overate, scolding him quietly while James pouted playfully, forever thankful for his ratty Austrian who pretended to be heartless.

Sometimes, James would fall asleep on the couch, and Niki would leave him there to go and sleep on the huge bed in the bedroom. Around 2 or 3 a.m, James would shuffle to the bedroom half asleep, demand Niki make room, and the brunet would laugh at the pout-glare directed at him. It was funny, and he’d still be laughing as he moved over to let James slip under the covers with him. The only time he would stop laughing is when James would poke him in the side until he got annoyed, and then the Brit would be the one giggling as Niki cussed at him in German.

But, it’s not always so peaceful and fun. They fight. Argue over petty things, like why the house is so fucking messy at 2 a.m. when they’re both drunk, or why James won’t let Niki help with the cooking. The answers are always right in front of them, but they’re too complicated to notice the obvious. There’s only been one serious fight, when Niki asked why the hell they were together, or why the fuck he was there when he could be back in London or Vienna or  _anywhere_  but here. James had left that night, leaving Niki in the big house by himself. He was lonely and angry and pissed off, so he had cleaned, clearing the wine bottles and beer cans and whatever else he needed to stuff into a plastic bag and never see again. He had wished he could do that with James, but realized how ridiculous that sounded and forgot about it.

The next morning, around 5 a.m., James had shown up, some place between drunk and hungover, with a couple of red roses he had gotten from ‘somewhere’. He had stumbled into the bedroom and laid next to Niki, who stared at him sleepily. Niki apologized for saying what he had said and James apologized for storming out like a child. They didn’t say anything else about it, just a shared kiss and a bit more sleep. It was what worked best for them, to fight and make up and never talk about it again. Forgive and forget.

Perhaps that’s why they’ve been together for so long.


End file.
